The Truth Inside

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
A 22 year-old struggles with her self- conscious mind and tries to break free from herself.

Submitted: July 26, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 26, 2013



The Truth Inside



The Mirror


I don’t look in the mirror too often, but when I do I am reminded of so many things. Mostly how I feel about myself. I try my hardest not to notice myself, but it’s hard not to notice who you are.

I stand here in front of the mirror and what do I see? My face? That too, but also every imperfection that lies within me. Somewhere deep in there is me, the one no one can see.

I’ve always wondered what does everyone see when they look at themselves? I’ll never know. I see someone scared, someone ugly, someone aging, and someone unlovable. How is this possible?

How is it not?

I touch my face, my hands are dry, and my face is oily. I look closer and I see little pimples trying to break through my skin. I look even closer and I see that soul that is alone and misunderstood. I don’t know where she came from, but she has lived inside me for as long as I can remember.

This person is me and she is the worst person I’ve ever met.





There is this routine I have. I wake up ten minutes later than I want, I look for clothes, I shower, watch some TV and I leave to work.

Work: File some paperwork, enter important bullshit to the company in the computer, try not to bang my head on the desk, get paid less than I deserve.

I am good at things, I am intelligent. Thing is, I am not confident. I live inside my head. Everywhere I go I feel like I am being judged by every person I see.

The good thing about work is I don’t have to be inside my head so often; I get to live inside my work.

Work isn’t interesting. I graduated high school almost six years ago, and chose not to go to college. Why? I didn’t know what to do. Of course you have everyone trying to give you advice (Family, friendly, and parental). What is it really? Everyone trying to push you in the direction they want to see your life go. What about where I want to see my life go? It’s manipulated by my parents and their dreams to see my life prosper in some wealthy profession. Basically I have no direction.

That is good for some people; some people need that push or advice. Me? I don’t want it. “So why don’t you say anything?” someone looking in would ask.

Explanation: For me to say things is hard. Some people can say whatever they want, no problem.

Me: My heart begins to race, and I get nervous even at the thought of saying something. My mind flutters with anger unsure of what direction I am angry in. Where do I direct my anger? At myself.


After work I go home and all I want to do is sit down and watch some TV. Then my father comes home. Now I dread the thought of my name being called.


And there it is. I don’t know why but my heart starts to race. I know I didn’t do anything wrong. I know I am not in trouble. I know I have nothing to fear.

Either way as I get up my heart won’t listen. It wants to race, it wants to make me nervous and make me sweat.


“Did you clean the bathroom?”


I turn around go right back to my room.





I sit in my room as the night begins to fall and I often think of how I was when I was younger. I always remember how shy I was. Now that I am twenty-two years old I begin to wonder if shyness is all it is.

One time in third grade I wanted to wear this green dress, but I wanted to wear it with sneakers. My mother wasn’t having it. I insisted on wearing socks. No one knows this but I was embarrassed of people seeing my feet. So she made me wear the open sandals with the socks I insisted on wearing. My teacher tried to tell me I looked cute, but I held my jacket close to the floor all day so no one would see my socks or sandals. I was sad the whole day and extremely embarrassed.

I think back on that day and I remember my classmates. Absolutely none of them were worried about how their feet looked or their sandals. I was the only one quiet and afraid.

What kind of third grader worries about how their feet look? Apparently me. Now why didn’t I tell anyone? I was too embarrassed.


I have always been shy and emotional. I was a sensitive person. Thinking back on it I often remember being called stuck-up, or lazy, or selfish. By who? My parents. Yes I love my parents more than anything, but why did they say those things to me? Could they not see how much it destroyed me? Did they think it would make me feel good, or change my ways? I don’t know. I just remember these words being said to me often.





Judgment: Something no one has the right to do.

You know how you go to the store and there are people there? Or when you drive and someone is in the passenger seat? What about when you go places and there are people around?

Normal People: Walk around and don’t give two shits about anyone else walking around in the store.

Me: Are they looking at me? Do they think I’m ugly? Can they see how sad I feel? I hope they can’t tell. I hope no one is checking me out. Of course no one is checking me out, why would someone do that?

I fail to realize when I look at other people I am not only judging them, but myself as well.

I am afraid of being judged. No I am terrified of it. Everywhere I went I felt like I was being judged. For someone who didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought, I sure cared a lot.



The Relationship


I couldn’t figure out how I had a boyfriend. I was not very pretty, my personality was fake, and my heart was dead, but some how I had one.

I have this necklace; it has a thin silver chain with a green stone. I keep it on all the time because it’s special to me. Luke and I broke up once and it lasted about two months. Then something happened, I’m not sure what but we ended up having dinner right before I was leaving to visit Florida and he was leaving to visit Mexico.

When we both got back we saw each other again, but we knew our feelings were gravitating towards each other once again. He then presented me with this necklace very shyly. It was cute.

Another few months and another break up. I gave it back. Eventually I left it around my neck because it symbolizes that first time we realized we couldn’t stay away from each other for very long.

This necklace for some reason this simple piece of jewelry made me feel special. It made me feel like someone was thinking of me even though I wasn’t around. I was on somebody’s mind just like they were on mine.


Soon I learned that is not always the truth.

4 AM

I always wake up in the middle of the night, more than once. Checking my phone for the time was normal.

This time there was a message. The message I’ve been dreading to see the answer to.

Yes he’s an asshole and you are out of your mind to be with him again smh

My heart fell into my stomach, but I knew the rest to come before I even read it. I had to be out of my mind I must have been crazy. Was I blind to the signs? Or did he cover his tracks that well?

I wish this were the first time I’ve been in this situation. Unfortunately it’s the third in this relationship.

Next it said: But hey I guess that’s on you. Have fun being cheated on cuz I’m done and over with this bullshit

Part of me wanted to reply: I will have fun bitch, fuck off!

But there was more. She had more to say. I read and all I saw was more and more lies uncovering before my eyes. The bitch was practically insulting my intelligence with things like “your crazy” (spelled wrong of course) and “he will sweet talk you and you’ll fall for it”

All the truths unfolded before my eyes and what do I want to know?

Why did you come to his house? And how long have you two been fucking?

I figured she must have been sleeping since it was 4 a.m. in the morning. I knew I couldn’t sleep, my heart, it was hurting, but my mind was moving.

Unexpectedly my phone vibrated. It was her again. Her reason for showing up at his house? It was and emergency and I needed his Wi-Fi.

It was an emergency? A fucking emergency!?

What was I doing? Why was I holding value to someone who clearly didn’t deserve it?

We spoke for about another hour. I didn’t think I could ever sleep but some how my body made it happen.


When I woke up the next morning I felt refreshed, until I remembered I had a lying, cheating, selfish man for a ‘boyfriend’. I wanted to bang my head on the wall and hoped to bleed out. Instead I got up and followed my work routine. This time I thought about my life. What the hell was I doing? I was back in front of the mirror. How did I feel? More worthless than the day before. Through out the night I had become uglier, more scared, older, and even more unlovable. My self value tanked to an all-new low.





Past Relationships


I go to work left to think of what I have done to deserve this. What has made me someone to cheat on?

Thoughts: Am I bad in bed? Is it my inability to express certain emotions? What is she like, why is she so much better than me?

Work is a dull lapse because I feel nothing but my past.

What have I done?

I’ve cheated, I’ve lied, I’ve been spiteful and unfair. Have I cared? Always. No, actually just mostly. Some people were truly not worth caring, others were. But I fucked them over anyways.

Why I’m a bitch:

I’ve cheated- more than once

I’ve lied- countless times

I’ve knowingly slept with another girl’s boyfriend

I’ve unknowingly slept with another girl’s boyfriend

I could’ve had someone that loved me despite it all, but I didn’t feel the same, then I got mad at him for it.

Why I no longer have a heart:

I’ve been cheated on- more than I know

I’ve been lied to- more than I know

More than one time I have entrusted my ‘heart’ with someone only to realize their love was a lie. One day they love me, the next they don’t. One day they want me, the next…never again.


I look at my past, at the things I have done. Is this how I made other people feel? Did I make them feel worse?

I forgave him.


Break- up


It took a lot for me to move past the dead feeling of being cheated on. But here I was still living. Everyday I was beginning to feel anxious. My heart would race for no reason. I would panic for no reason. I would fear being spoken to.  I would want to talk but was too afraid to start a conversation.

In my head: Why would anyone want to talk to me? I’m boring. There is nothing interesting about me. If I talk they will think I am boring. But I want to talk to someone, how should I start a conversation? They will think I’m weird if I start a conversation or attempt to.

Everyday was becoming worse and worse, but no one knew except me.

“I think we need to take time apart. A month, of no talking to each other.” Luke said to me.

What had I done now? Was I too needy? Why did I always feel like he judged me most out of everyone? How could he do this to me after I forgave him?

He sat on his couch looking miserable. Misery I surly caused, but how? I tried. I was caring, I was loving, I gave him more than I gave anyone. Still he wasn’t happy. It was plain to see there was something wrong with me.


Would I ever be enough for anyone? Why did I bother reaching out, trying to break the wall if no one ever saw it? Why am I so alone?


Unfortunately I did not accept this break-up gracefully. I seem to have this habit of making a fool of myself. I kept trying, kept trying to understand. I even kept trying when he said things like: “I’m going to find another girlfriend.” Or “I’m tired of trying to understand you.”

I still tried. Why?

Explanation: I’ve been in a few relationships, all of them sucked. Ever since the day I met Luke I felt some kind of connection to him. Touching him was like electricity passing through our bodies. I didn’t understand my undying desire to be around him for so many years. Once we finally had a chance to be together I felt drawn to him. Something about him not being around felt wrong.


My efforts were met with grief. Soon my mind began to get darker.

I am sad every moment of every day. I am tired every moment of every day. Every single one of my thoughts is negative.



Back in the Mirror


I look at this face into this soul. I am alone. This world is too much for me.

I look at other people and you know what I see? Beauty. I see things I don’t have. I see things I wish I had. I see better hair than mine, a clearer face than mine, a better personality than mine, someone who isn’t afraid, someone who isn’t shy, someone who is beautiful.

I look at myself and wonder how anyone can stand to look at me.

I look at me. “This isn’t just about a break-up, or being cheated on and you know it.”

That mouth of mine was right. What was this really about? Why was I really this way? I didn’t want to be this way, that I know. I wanted to be someone full of life, with no fear. I want to dance, and have fun, but most of all I want to look in the mirror and say, “God damn Ana, you look beautiful today!”





Luke and I had this funny habit of trying to be ‘friends’. After our break-up this became one of those times. We would hang out, play some video games, and draw up some sexual tension.

I’m a lonely person. I don’t have many friends, or at least I feel like I don’t.  In a way he was my best friend.

I couldn’t explain it, this feeling I suddenly had. I was always so good at keeping things to myself, in my head. They were better there; no one could touch them or make you feel silly or embarrassed about them. But today I wanted to share some of them. I couldn’t take it. I’ve lived inside my head for so long and I felt like it would explode. I needed someone to listen. I needed someone to look at me and say, “You’re not crazy.” I just wanted someone to understand what it was I wanted in this world.

I sat down on Luke’s couch trying to remember the words I practiced in my head all day. I couldn’t remember them that well. For some reason they hurt. They hurt so much and I hadn’t even said them yet.

“What did you want to talk about?” Luke asked.

I gathered myself with deep breaths and tried to find the courage to say it.

My fear: Crying. Crying = Weakness. Fear = Weakness.

“Lately I’ve been feeling like I am going to be alone for the rest of my life. It scares me. For some reason I hold such a high value to finding that one person who understands who you are, to me that is everything. I think because I feel like no one has ever or will ever understand me.”

I couldn’t find the right words. I was having trouble and I felt like some kind of lovesick puppy. I was not here looking for love or sympathy; I just wanted to say things out loud.

“I can’t really explain, but thinking about it makes me sad. I can’t deal with things like I used to. I feel worthless.”

That was the word, worthless. I had no value to anyone’s life. I was important to no one, not now, not before, not ever. I was a loser.

“I think you may be clinically depressed.” Luke said.

I didn’t understand. “Depressed maybe, but why clinically?”

 “From what you just told me, it sounds like depression. Like there may be a chemical imbalance, something you can’t help.  Have you talked to your dad about it?”

“No why?”

“I’ve had the same feeling before. I talked to my mom, and I felt so relieved once I got it out and told someone.”

“But I’m telling you.”

I don’t think he understood what I was saying. I don’t think anyone does.

Sometimes I felt like I didn’t even make sense to myself.

How could I explain this value, this significance, I put on finding someone who understands me, when no one else held it to the high standards I did.

“It’s not the same. Trust me you will feel a lot better. Don’t you want to talk to someone? I’m sure you want someone to just hug you and tell you that you are okay.”

I don’t know why but I began to cry. I couldn’t control it any longer. I held tears back for years and years in fear of showing my weakness, but right now I couldn’t.

I didn’t want him to see me crying, it was embarrassing. When you cry people ask question like: “Why are you crying?” or “Are you okay?” Has anyone ever thought sometimes people just need to cry? Sometimes there are things inside that no one knows about and the only way to get them out is through tears, not words. If I were really okay, I wouldn’t be crying. If I were okay there would be no sadness in my heart or mind to cry about. 

I got up and went to the bathroom. I needed to hide my face.

You know how when you walk away from someone and all you really want them to do is come after you. You want to feel like someone wants you enough to come and get you, to make you come back to them. Secretly that’s something I always wanted. I didn’t know who I wanted it from, but I knew at least one time in my life I wanted someone to come and get me.

I hid my face, my shame in my hands as I lost control of my tears.

The door opened.

“Don’t cry alone.” He said.

Then he took my hand and pulled me out of the bathroom.

I sat there and tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t. Why was I crying? Did I even know why? If I were asked that question, what would be the answer?




Answer: I was tired. I was tired of being me. I was tired of my thoughts. I didn’t want to be this person. I wanted to someone else. I wanted to be this person I picture myself being in my head. I wanted to stop hurting and being sad. I wanted these thoughts to go away. Twenty-two years was long enough.

It was time to face me. I’ve been hiding from myself for too long.

I couldn’t fake it anymore. I tried to help myself, teach myself.

You can’t teach your mind not to be how it is. Some people can, I can’t.

Sometimes people need to understand, you cannot control what your mind does. There is no pushing it away and manning up. There is no try harder. Twenty- two years is trying hard enough. It was time to face facts: I needed help.





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